Tales of Darkness
by OneOfShadows
Summary: After becoming the Listener, Tumsa's life has not been going as she expected. When the storm finally breaks, will the Thieves Guild provide a shelter? Or will their new Guildmaster, the Dragonborn, kick her out because of an ages old feud?
1. Chapter 1

The Listener Tumsa Dareleth paused in front of the door and listened. The rest of the room behind her was dark and cold. Only a flickering light shone from under the door. No voices sounded, but she heard the rustle of turning pages and the occasional light cough from the room beyond.

Some grumpy old cat-woman had ordered the contract. She was clearly crazy, but there had been a box full of shining gold beneath her chair. And no assassin refused a contract if there was plenty of gold involved. The only thing holding her back from the assassination was the target itself. It was only a child. Not yet sixteen years of age. A boy, who insisted he was a man. Tumsa had as always bothered to learn the story behind this contract. Sometimes she regretted this urge.

There had apparently been an accident. Two boys sparring with their first real swords. One of the boys had been the unfortunate winner and the other had been the grandson of a lady who had more gold than sanity left.

The worst thing was - Tumsa sympathized. She knew what it was like to lose family. It was like a betrayal in itself.

She stood outside the splintered wooden door, debating with herself, whether to appease the vengeance of an old woman, or to spare a child's life. Her reveries were interrupted by the outside door banging open, letting in the cold winter air in a whoosh that fluttered the edges of her cloak and set her teeth chattering. Dunmer were certainly not immune to cold. But she had no time to stand around trembling - soon the intruder would look up from banging the last of the snow from his boots and discover an assassin in plain sight, hovering just before the room where his son and pregnant wife were resting.

Tumsa cast a spell of Muffle as quietly as she could and rolled to the side where a table and chairs would block the man's view of her. The only window in the room was unfortunately too narrow for Tumsa to push her wide hips through, so the only way out remained the same she had come in - the door.

The night outside was dark and cloudy, with a light sprinkling of snow falling as it had the last few days. A guard passed lighting the empty street with his torch momentarily, outlining the figure standing in the doorway, and then the front door was shut abruptly. The man sighed and moved clumsily, tripping on a rug and cursing under his breath. Tumsa moved carefully around the table so to out of the man's line of sight. All the while she mused as she had innumerable times previously on how people wouldn't hear anything if they didn't expect to hear anything.

The killing would have to wait until the next night. If Tumsa could do it at all. In the other room the man's wife and son happily greeted the him. Like a family.

She finally snuck to the front door, cracked it open and peeked through to see if the street was empty. No pools of torchlight glittered in the near snow, so she slipped out, in the process swiftly taking off her cloak, turning it around and fastening it around her neck again. The side that was now under was plain and a bit worn-looking black, but the side up was a crimson red, sparkling with elaborate dragons embroidered in gold thread on it. Tumsa pulled down the facemask to her neck, where it hung like a loose scarf. No one could possibly mistake this flashy figure for a suspicious lurker stalking in the dark.

The streets of Solitude were snow-filled and dark. Lanterns extinguished quickly in the sharp, cold winter wind, and no one had the time to re-light them every night. The occasional guard passed, but no citizens wandered the streets. Tumsa made her way to the inn, where she had hired a room the day before. A drunken crowd of youths spilled out of the inn's front door, laughing and pushing at each other. New Life Festival was always a loud affair. Tumsa didn't even harbor the illusion that she could be able to fall asleep in the clamorous inn.

The inn was full of humid smoke and noise and heat and people. Some more youths played an apparently hilarious game involving a spinning bottle. A couple of bards played drums in a corner, but hardly anyone paid any attention to them. Serving girls darted between the tables, carrying bottles and platters of food, occasionally squealing when passing a table of particularly drunken men. Tumsa made her way through the main hall, weaving between the crowds, and up to her room. Upstairs she could still hear the noise, but here it wasn't deafening, especially when she shut the door. She could read a book or something; or she could ponder what to do next.

The streets were even more empty than usual. Everyone was either home sleeping or trying to drink away the hangover. The manor Tumsa was looking for was a way out of the city, behind high gates and a garden full of even higher trees. Their snow-covered branches stood out starkly against the cold blue morning sky. No servants were in the manor and no guards.

Tumsa open the front door hesitantly. Of course there wasn't anything to worry about, but one could never be too careful. The entry hall was as chilly as it had been two days ago, when Tumsa first set foot in the house. She cast a spell of Detect Life, and immediately located the lone pulse of life that could be sensed in the house. It was in the next room, right where she had met the old lady for the first time.

When Tumsa left there was no life in the manor.

Nazir had been furious. He'd never liked Tumsa's methods, and this time his rant had been one of the worst. But Mother had assured Tumsa that the contract had been sealed with blood, and that it was technically the wrong blood was only a little detail that could easily be overlooked.


	2. Chapter 2

The Listener's Journal -

"I realize now that killing that fool Cicero was an ironic mistake. I cursed him for betraying Astrid, our mistress, the one who represented leadership and family. He must be cackling from his grave, wherever that may be, about this cruel twist that has made Astrid the betrayer instead of the victim. Let him laugh. I will turn this family around, though Nazir's non-cooperation worries me. We should be able to rely on each other now more than ever, and yet I catch myself sometimes watching him for signs of treachery and deceit."

* * *

"I regret having to kill the Emperor. He was a wise man and a wise leader. He would have made this empire whole again. The madness of age hadn't affected him, as it sometimes does. His heir is an entirely different matter. I see a pattern. Good rulers often make bad fathers, and this was true in this case. Astius is a fool and a drunkard. The empire will not do well under his rule. I still cannot see what Motierre tried to achieve with this contract. Maybe I should have asked before I killed him."

* * *

"Nazir has been even more tiresome than usual. His questions have been annoying and deceptively stupid, and I've seen him whispering with the new recruits, always breaking the conversations up when he sees me approaching. He must be leading me on, trying to make me paranoid, because I refuse to believe he would be so careless. Babette has grown more distant too, ducking away from conversation, not even bothering to hide her disdain. Must I, who was betrayed once, fear this again?"

* * *

"Yesterday I made the final arrangements with Mallory for the furnishing of the new Sanctuary. I watched them at their Guild, while Mallory signed my papers, and I was jealous. They weren't the most groomed or refined of people, but they trusted one another. That is something I fear I can never have. Their Second in command, Brynjolf, made me an offer to join. Apparently he valued my skill at sneaking and lockpicking. Maybe I should take up that offer, once things at the Sanctuary are settled and I have devised a way for Mother to pass on the contracts to Nazir directly."


	3. Chapter 3

Tumsa snuck down the stairs on her softest, quietest cat-steps. She wondered again where her today's companion was, but dismissed the thought as another Draugr lumbered in the half-lit passage before her. It had once been a woman - it still had a half-disintegrated braid of blond hair. Tumsa carefully drew her bow and aimed. Her shot was interrupted by a heavy breathing behind, and moments later a figure emerged from the pitch-black room behind. The apprentice assassin started to speak, but managed to trip on her own feet and rolled all the way down, steel armour clanking like temple chimes. There were growls and more shuffling as the Draugr noticed the girl now sprawled on the foot of the stairs.

Tumsa sighed loudly in frustration and re-readied the bow. The first Draugr approaching was knocked down by an arrow in its eye, followed closely to the ground by another one. Meanwhile, the apprentice had gotten up, found her war axe and threw herself into the fight with a fearsome battle-cry that made Tumsa wince.

The girl was Tion, a Breton, who insisted it was indeed her real name. Nazir had found her Azura knew where, and brought her to be an assassin. Tumsa had immediately dismissed the overly loud and enthusiastic girl as someone who would be better suited to make sweet rolls for the rest of her life. But Nazir had insisted. Very insistently. So, Tumsa had taken Tion to a ruin full of Draugr to see if the girl was any good. So far she was not impressed. Nazir argued that a Nordic tomb was hardly the place to test the skills of a prospective assassin, but Tumsa had presented her favourite argument, which ran 'I am your Listener, Nazir, so shut up and go kill someone'.

Tion finally hacked down the last Draugr, following each hit with a triumphant grunt. Tumsa watched with an increasingly annoyed expression.

Twenty minutes later both women stood in front of a Word Wall. There was a chest of precious things next to it, but neither of them paid any attention to it at the moment. The wall was something magnificent, thirty feet high, covered in runes that seemed carved into the stone with claws. After a moment of amazed staring, Tumsa shrugged it off and went to clean out the chest.

When she was done, Tion sighed and said tiredly, "And now we have to go through this place back again? I hate ruins." The Breton made for the door they had come in, but Tumsa laughed and called the girl back.

Tumsa cast a searching glance around the room, until she saw what she was apparently looking for. Tion wondered what did the Listener want with a segment of wall that looked the same as the one next to it, but Tumsa pulled at a chain that was hidden in a crevice in the wall and the segment slid down with a grinding noise that echoed in the chamber, revealing a narrow tunnel.

Tumsa looked back, amusement glittering in her dark ruby eyes, and beckoned Tion to come closer. She said in her raspy, low voice, "There's always a back way. And a shame I can never find these beforehand."

The tunnel was long and winding, but its end emerged out in the clear mountain air of Skyrim, on a rock platform flooded with bright sunlight. Tumsa sat down on the sun-warmed stone, taking out a bag of food. Tion sat down next to her.

When the women had finished eating, Tumsa began, "Where did Nazir find you exactly?"

Tion blushed and blurted out, "He saw me killing a few, uh ... bandits. Well, not bandits really, I was kind of working with them. And he offered me to join him. He didn't say it was the Brotherhood."

"So, he chose you for your backstabbing qualities." Tumsa said staring off in the distance. "Don't worry, I don't think he did on purpose. But what do I know." She focused on Tion, who was starting to look crestfallen and discouraged. "I think you'd have a nice bright future in the Companions, so long as you keep a check on your blades. You're all right, girl, but not an assassin. Also," she added getting up, "I trust you'll not mention these few days to anyone. Otherwise, I might just find a use for you yet. Terminally."

Tion swallowed and nodded, and got up too. Tumsa pointed east. "You'll find Windhelm half a days' walk in that direction."

Tumsa gathered the remains of the food bag and stalked off in the other direction. Nazir had some explaining to do.


	4. Chapter 4

The Ragged Flagon was full of drinking and carousing thieves, fences and various other dregs of the society. Tumsa walked between the tables, searching the moving crowd for a face. When she finally located the aged Breton, who had managed not to get drunk yet, Tumsa sat down at his table. Delvin looked at her conspiratorially and slid a note over the table without a word. Tumsa unfolded the note, took one look at it and slid it in her pouch. Then, she waived at the bartender for a drink and finally disrupted the bubble of silence that had formed around their table amidst the churning mass of people. "So, why is everyone so happy today?"

"Finally got ourselves a new Guildmaster. The Dragonborn himself. Now, tell me it isn't somethin' to be cheery about." The old man was as gruff as ever, but Tumsa noticed a glint of pride in his eyes.

"Oh, fancy that. Is he here?"

"Nah, Therin left hours ago. Said he had important business."

"I should think so. The Dragonborn ought be out killing dragons and saving the world, not fraternizing with the ... well, you see yourself." Tumsa thanked the waitress who had brought a mug of ale. "What kind of a name is Therin anyway?"

"Huh? He's a Dark Elf, like you."

Tumsa sipped at her drink and laughed. "Dunmer? The Nords must be outraged. Anyway, there's something I wanted to talk about. Since you've all been out and about, the Guild's starting to piss off more and more people. And I've been starting to get a few contracts. I just wanted to clear this with Maven, or whoever now runs this now, before killing anyone."

"Oh? I'll have to tell the kids to be more careful." Despite the buoyant attitude Delvin seemed a little abashed. He leaned closer and whispered. "There's not one on me, is there?"

Tumsa laughed and took a piece of paper out of her pouch. "It says here, Tzeeta, Beyra and Garthar. What did they steal exactly?"

Delvin waived the question off, "Oh, you know, stuff. But you'll have to talk to Therin about this. You can refuse a contract, can't you?

"Yeah, sure. It's still a business, if a religious one."

Delvin looked at her gratefully. Tumsa drank the rest of her ale in one long gulp, left a coin on the table, winked at Delvin and left the table. She found Brynjolf next, sitting by the pool of water, with a tankard of wine next to him and a buxom girl in his lap. Tumsa coughed loudly, but when that didn't work, she yanked at Brynjolf's collar. The pair immediately sprung apart, with Brynjolf nearly dropping the girl in water, and both looked up disapprovingly.

Tumsa just laughed at their expression and said, "What? I just worried someone might have glued you together." She turned to the girl. "Now scurry off, I have business to do."

The girl gave a last kiss to Brynjolf and got up. She swayed away, looking back suggestively at Brynjolf, winking, but the impression was spoiled by her banging in one of the tables and stubbing her toes. She finally gave up on allure and limped away.

Tumsa turned back to Brynjolf and clicked her tongue accusingly. When Brynjolf laughed and patted the wooden platform beside him, she sat down too, and began, "So what's this about your Guildmaster?"

"Delvin told you? I think you've met the kid already. Last time you were here."

"Did I?"

"Yeah. Therin Drelas."

"Really? I think I know him. Do you know, is he from Blacklight?"

"Blacklight? Is that a city? And, no, we don't really ask. There's usually a bad story."

"Anyone ask you?"

"Depends. Are you willing to trade?"

"Okay, no." Tumsa looked into the water for a moment. "Does your offer still stand?"

"Oh, you're considering now?"

"It's just that things have been going ... not the way I wanted. I wanted to make sure I have an escape route if it all turns sour."

"Hah, don't worry about that, lass. Our door is always open to you."

Tumsa smiled, but without any mirth in the expression and got up. "Thank you, Brynjolf."

The Listener made her way back through the Ratway, thinking about where had she gone wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

Kill them. Kill, kill, kill everyone.'

For days the little voice had whispered in her mind. Not just whispered, but shouted, insisted, alluring and nearly irresistible. Because that would be too simple, wouldn't it? To get rid of all these untrustworthy recruits, rebuild her Family anew. Tumsa couldn't tell the difference anymore, was it the Night Mother talking, meddling in her mind, or was she simply going mad?

Tumsa shook her head and focused on the target again. She was drifting off more frequently these days. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep that made her eyelids feel like bags of sand, and the exhaustion that made her body feel like it was falling apart. Even the searing cold didn't help much anymore and neither did the sharp north wind.

The target was a thief. He had been squatting on the roof for two hours, apparently not noticing the icy breezes of early First Seed. Spring came far too late in Skyrim. He was a Nord, so big and muscular Tumsa could hardly believe he was a sneak and a thief, not a warrior. But he had a way of blending in with the evening shadows.

Tumsa frowned and blinked a few times, and tossed up her throwing knife, catching it again after three cartwheels in the air. She couldn't say what was holding her back - maybe it was something someone had said? But no matter; money was money, whichever way you looked at it. And Tumsa was going to need a lot of it.

She had made herself comfortable in the house opposite - the thief was so intent on waiting for his target, he never raised his head to see the assassin on the roof over the road.

As the body fell to the empty street, snowflakes started drifting from the black sky. Tumsa hopped down carefully to retrieve her knife from the corpse's throat. Once again justice had been served.

* * *

Therin Drelas climbed leisurely down the rickety stairs, idly wondering whether the secret entrance's grinding door shouldn't be fixed, but dismissed it. It had been a good day and he did not want to think about such tedious details. His good mood was somewhat dispelled by the racket that greeted him.

Brynjolf was in the middle of the Cistern, together with Delvin and some newby he couldn't be bothered to remember, holding a screaming and sobbing Vex. A few others watched hesitantly from the shadows, but no one really wanted to get too close to a drunken and out-of-temper Vex. She was hysteric, thumping at Brynjolf who was holding her. As Therin approached, she calmed down, but just to regain her breath for further screaming. This time she even managed to form words, so loudly Brynjolf flinched and nearly let the woman go.

"Therin! THAT BITCH!"

Therin drew closer, stepping around the puddles and murmured loud enough for Delvin to hear, "I hope you weren't referring to me."

Vex hadn't heard and just drew a breath that seemed to fill her lungs to bursting and screamed, "SHE KILLED HIM!" Then the sobbing woman simply collapsed on the floor.

It was mind-boggling to see Vex in such a state. Usually so cold and composed, and ever so slightly ironic, she gave the impression of a queen. Some cold frigid bitch of a queen, but royalty nevertheless.

Brynjolf finally let her go and plodded apologetically over to Therin. "Sorry about this, boss. I was sure we could get her together before you got back."

"No matter. What's got her into such a state?"

"Garthar was killed. By the Brotherhood."

"Nchow! Didn't Delvin say he had talked this over with the Listener, whoever he is?"

"She. And she's been odd lately. The lass has bitten of more than she can chew. She said she would talk to you about the contracts, but I guess she got distracted."

"A woman as an assassin." Therin sighed and looked over to where Vex was crying, her slight frame wrecked by sobs. "Get Vex to someone ... uh, doesn't she have any relatives who could take care of her? I can't have her here in that state."

"Well, I know an old lady who could take her in for a few weeks."

"Good. Make the necessary arrangements. Get Delvin to reschedule the patrols. I'm going out to find this assassin."

Therin turned to go back the way he had come, and Brynjolf called after him, "The lass was curious about you by the way. She goes by the name of Tumsa Dareleth. Maybe you know her."

The Guildmaster resumed his walk, this time with far more conviction. No one heard his murmured, "Oh, yes, I know that s'wit alright."


	6. Chapter 6

Wind had blown the snow in great heaps again. Dawnstar never was a particularly welcoming city, but even late spring was only a step better than the winters here, and it wasn't a big step. The Khajiiti caravaners were huddled around their fire, hissing about the chilly winters and the unwelcoming Nords. They didn't even notice the short, full-figured shape that barreled past their camp.

Tumsa's trembling hands failed to grasp a step of the ladder and she fell down the last four. The bolt of pain that shot through her feet joined the background throbbing of all the scrapes and bruises she'd gathered on the journey. It didn't matter. She cursed as one ankle buckled beneath her and refused to take her forward. The healing spell she summoned had dirty specks of gray and brown in the golden glow, but it didn't matter. The background pain vanished leaving a disconcerting feeling of bliss. It was marred by the voices. They always sprang back whenever that little part in the back of her mind wasn't occupied with something else. But it didn't matter. Nothing did.

'Come, child.' Tumsa closed her eyes and sighed. The sweet voice in her head would always be true and good and it was the only reason Tumsa came back to the Sanctuary. It was the only reason she called this place home.

_Mother._

'You have work to do, child.'

_Tell me, Mother, and I will obey._

Apprentice assassins watched their leader with growing dissatisfaction. Tumsa limped across the chamber on unsteady, wavering legs, with eyes closed and lips moving as if she were talking to herself. She hadn't noticed the looks and sneers. If she had, she would probably had carved someone's lips off. Tumsa's sense of humor was like that, and if her sanity was going, her skill was certainly still present. A dangerous combination.

'Nazir has been scheming against you, my dearest Listener. You must kill him. You must make an example of him. Otherwise this family will not be whole.'

For once Tumsa hesitated. It was a hazy recollection, but hadn't Mother told her that Nazir was holding the family together? Which one was the Mother, and which – the Voice?

A brief snigger intruded on Tumsa's reveries as a splash of cold water hits a drunk. Her head snapped around and she looked closely at the group of students. They were having dinner. The aroma wafting from the rich stew made Tumsa's stomach growl and she cursed her body for its weakness.

The whole room had come into focus. Tumsa saw tapestries and new furniture for the first time, she noticed that the garden had, under careful tending, bloomed. The hall was clean and someone had managed to somehow chase away the musty smell of underground tombs. So which one was the Voice?

An apprentice climbed up the stairs to Mother's coffin where Tumsa still stood and offered her a bowl of stew. Something told her to fling it away, it was poison … but the body won. She accepted it with a halfway grateful look and noticed the apprentice sigh in relief as he went to join his fellows.

Her shaking hands couldn't support the bowl, so she sat down on the steps and set it in her lap. The metal spoon and the steaming thick soup burned her tongue, but it was so good … Tumsa hadn't eaten in days, but that hadn't mattered before she tasted the rich, tangy stew that suddenly seemed the most precious of delicacies.

The light made it almost unbearable. The place was so bright, so clean and composed and everything Tumsa was not, and it had been achieved without her. No, Nazir did not deserve to die.

Yet.


	7. Chapter 7

Tumsa had decided to wander off and kill someone. Because that's what she'd overheard – Babette's sweet child voice had said that the 'mad Listener' should just go and kill someone. Or maybe it was the Voice again.

No matter. Mother had provided Tumsa with a set of contracts, one of which was particularly interesting. She had to kill a Graybeard. That was unprecedented. That was even more crazy than killing the Emperor, because leaders held power, but Graybeards just held themselves away from the world, never interfering in the affairs of nobles and peasants alike.

So here she was in the Bannered Mare, watching the other patrons carefully from her corner of shadow, trying to discern who might be her contact.

A sleek and tall fair-skinned woman approached her table. "Will you … Listen?"

The slight pause and inflection betrayed her. Tumsa smiled and pulled her drink closer. "If you will tell me."

"Good." The woman sat down and began speaking brusquely, "I asked your Mother to capture your direct attention. This is not a task to be undertaken by half-trained brutes. Your delicacy with such matters and experience will be invaluable."

"Well, before I undertake anything, let's discuss the matter of payment."

"Thirty thousand gold coins."

"Oooh." Tumsa shivered in delight. "Go on."

"In three weeks time there will be a peace council in High Hrothgar. A treaty will be struck to pause the war, so the Dragonborn can deal with the dragon menace. Your mission is to disrupt it by killing one of the Graybeards. My employer only requests it be one of the silent ones."

'She lies.'

"Sounds simple enough. Where's the catch?"

The woman was taken aback, suddenly flustered for no apparent reason. "I assure you, there is no-"

"No one offers thirty thousand for one man. My guess is, there's a part of the plan you're not telling me, and that is going to inconvenience me very much."

"You are free to refuse. My employer will find someone else."

"Oh, no, no, no. But, it would be more prudent to tell me the rest of the plan, so I know how to react in case of … misunderstandings."

"Fine." She sighed in annoyance. "Your employer is the Legion. We have reason to suspect that the result of the council treaty will be favorable to the Stormcloaks and we wish to … inconvenience them. That is all you need to know."

'Trust her.'

"Good. I believe we have an agreement. What I now need is a date."

"The council will be held on the first of Mid Year. It will likely start sometime evening, but I suggest you scout a few days ahead." She produced a scroll from her leather armor and unrolled it on the table. "This is a plan of High Hrothgar."

Tumsa studied it for a moment and took it for herself. "I must have a thousand beforehand. Traveling costs, you understand."

The woman sighed again and rummaged in her armor again. Next was a pouch, far too little to contain a thousand gold coins, but she shook out a handful of sparkling gems in white, red, blue and green. "Here. I trust this will cover any expenses."

Tumsa's eyes flashed greedily for a moment and she grabbed the bag and shoved the gems back inside. The woman watched with amusement and Tumsa's shaking hands darted around the table. The bag vanished.

The woman stood up. "I will contact you when the deed is done." Without a word of farewell she turned and slipped out of the inn.

'You can start a new life with this money.'

_Can I? One thousand is not much. I will need all thirty._

'That will not present a problem. She told you the truth you needed to know, and she did not lie about the gold.'

_Good._


End file.
